


The Girl in Diagon Alley

by MaraudingManaged



Series: LF2020 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, LoveFest2020, Soulmates, TeamEros, Time Turner (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/pseuds/MaraudingManaged
Summary: James Potter is generally one who embraces the unexpected and strange - including the girl in Diagon Alley.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter
Series: LF2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628197
Comments: 31
Kudos: 243
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	The Girl in Diagon Alley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> You asked for Jamione soulmates... and I am more than happy to oblige. 
> 
> Written for #LF2020, #TeamEros - mostly un-beta'd, all mistakes my own, but thank you to RavensLight for helping me find the extra words it needed, and Mcal for being her glorious cheerleadery self. ENJOY!

James sees the girl for the first time in Diagon Alley, a pile of smoking metal in her hand. She’s got a lion’s mane of glorious hair that looks like blended honey and chocolate, and seems like a sprite or pixie - a small, heart-shaped face and a fae-like stature. 

And she’s sobbing.

He feels it suddenly, deep in his chest. It's like something has wrapped itself around his heart and is drawing him, entirely involuntarily, towards the weeping girl. 

“James Charlus Potter, what _are_ you doing? Get yourself back here this instant, you’re going to be late for your fitting appointment! You’ve grown too much to draw another year out of your robes, my love.”

He glances at his mother, his pulse fluttering in his fingers, his wrists, his lips, his feet - anywhere the blood is near the surface. “Mum, you don’t understand! I feel… I feel…” 

The feeling in his heart tugs again, even harder. His head flicks around quick enough to give him whiplash, and his stomach sinks as the spot in the street that the girl was is now empty. 

“Yes?” His mother taps her foot impatiently, her grey eyes narrowed on him and at the spot he was staring at. “Well, whatever it is you’re feeling will have to wait, dear. You’ve too many things to be getting on with today to navel-gaze.” 

He rubs his chest, over his heart which feels at the same time bereft and impossibly full, and he knows without a doubt what it is he feels. He’s not supposed to - no-one is _supposed_ to feel it until they’re fifteen or sixteen, once they’ve grown up a bit. 

But he feels it. The heart-bond. 

“Coming, mum,” he whispers, but there’s a joy in him now that he can’t repress, and a grin creeps across his face.

Somewhere in London is his heart’s mate, and she has chocolatey hair and a pretty, delicate sort of face. 

He wonders idly, as he’s manhandled by his mother into Madam Malkin’s, when he’ll see her again. 

* * *

“Oi, oi, oi! Look at you all, the strapping fourth-years you are!” Sirius crows as he launches himself into their compartment on the train, flinging himself bodily over James and Peter. “Love of my life, my heart’s true home, the most handsome of devils - here, don’t you fucking dare - _ow_ , you pair of wankers!” He cries as he’s unceremoniously dumped to the floor by James and Peter who have shared little more than a flick of the eyes before they stand as one, watching him tumble down before returning to their previous positions. 

James snickers, though, when Sirius flicks back his tangled waves so over-dramatically, silvery eyes wide in mock-offence. “You’re an absolute ponce, Sirius. Sit down properly, will you? Remus will be here any se…” 

He trails off and his hand flies to his heart - the _feeling_. 

It burns bright and tightens in his chest, in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help it as he stands, almost tripping over Sirius in the process, who makes to tackle his legs before he can go any further. “Jamesie, what’s got your wand in a knot? Chill the fuck out, will you?” 

“ _Sirius_ , I can _feel it_.” He rests his hand on his breastbone and looks down at the dishevelled boy, whose eyes widen in understanding. 

“Fuckin’ hell, lad - get yourself off. Go! GO!” 

“What’s he talking about? What does he feel? _Ow_ , Sirius! What’s your problem?” He hears Pete squeal as Sirius hits him _somewhere_ \- James isn’t sure where because he’s already storming down the corridors, peering in each compartment as the feeling in his chest becomes more and more pronounced. 

She’s _here_ , he realises. She’s somewhere on this train, and he’s closing in on her as every second passes. 

His eyes scour every compartment as he passes them - scowling at some, waving at others, laughing when he accidentally stumbles across Frank Longbottom and Alice Prewett fishing for each other's tonsils in a kiss he’s only a little bit jealous of. 

He almost hexes Snivellus and his equally greasy mates as they sit, heads bowed together, and he adds a mental note to tell Sirius, Pete and Remus that he’s seen them plotting already. 

But he doesn’t have _time_. He doesn’t even want to bother, because he has more important things to do. 

No. A more important _person_ to find. 

He draws closer and closer to the back of the train, and panic surges through him at the rogue thought that he might be imagining this feeling, that it might not be real at all - that _she_ might not be real at all. He pushes it down because he _knows_ \- just as he knows that it’s the 1st of September and he will absolutely be a Chaser again on the Gryffindor Quidditch team - that she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. 

He stops dead outside a carriage compartment that at first appears empty. His heart is hammering, _yearning_ , desperate; it’s a tension that has been growing and growing and driving and _pulling_ him in this direction since he left his carriage. 

At first James feels utter, devastating hopelessness as the room appears unoccupied. He’s about to turn away, about to leave with his heart in ruins, when he sees a small form huddled in one corner, their face turned to look out of the window - but he can still see their reflection in the window, like a mirror. 

It’s her. 

He shoves the compartment door open without a moment’s hesitation and she seems to jump a mile up in the air, clasping her hand to her heart at exactly the same moment as he did, a wall of magic threatening to explode in the foot or two that there is between them. “You’re her. The girl from Diagon Alley.” 

The noise that escapes her mouth is something between a squeak and a sob, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his cheeks as he holds out his hand to her. “Hi, I’m James Potter.” 

She stares, wide-eyed, between his hand and his face, her eyes darting back and forth, her tongue flicking out to moisten her dry lips that looked to be cracked from nervous chewing. Her eyes are the deepest caramel, molten and hot, and it stirs the tightness in his chest again because she is _perfect_. 

“I - ah…” she grimaces, but he’s charmed. Entirely, utterly charmed, because her voice is rich and sweet and entirely uncertain as she stumbles over her words; standing up and brushing down her skirt to fill the silence. “I’m...” 

And she holds out her hand to his, maybe to shake it, but the minute their palms touch, it feels like the room explodes. 

Golden light blinds his vision and he staggers forward into her, just as she collides with him, gasping and spluttering. His heart is burning, his chest, his stomach - it feels like he’s on fire but he knows, without a doubt, that there’s nothing else he wants to feel for the rest of his life. 

And then it fades as suddenly as the fire came, and in its wake James is left with a wholeness, a certainess, and a calmness that he is unable to express. He is everything he should be, and everything he has ever wanted to be, and the witch before him is the reason for it all.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she says weakly, breathlessly, and gazes up at him with the toffee eyes he never wants to look away from. Her hands are pressed against his chest, his arms about her hips, from where they’ve had to steady themselves from the blast of magic - unknowingly drawing them as close as they could be in the otherwise empty compartment. “And… what in Merlin’s name was that?” 

James feels his eyes widen, and his breath hitches just a bit as the realisation dawns on him. 

_Granger_. That’s not a magical name. 

She’s a Muggle-born and she doesn’t know what she’s just done. He doesn’t actually know what to say, and his mouth hangs open as he tries to work out just how to tell this beautiful girl that she has, essentially, bound herself to him forever. 

A stranger. And he’s just done the same without thinking. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

“Well?” She says, and her voice takes on an imperious tone that he is all too familiar with, because it sounds terrifyingly like Lily Evans. His stomach sinks as it all dawns on him with a crash as he staggers backwards, skin still tingling and heart still thundering, and he blurts out the very first words that come to his mind - because it’s the one thing that terrifies him more than the fact that he’s all but married the little witch in front of him.

“My mum is going to _kill_ me.” 

  
  



End file.
